


Vanporas After Dark

by CollarsAndCurses



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Hand Jobs, Humanstuck, Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trans Male Character, sort of, terrible puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2017-06-26
Packaged: 2018-11-19 07:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CollarsAndCurses/pseuds/CollarsAndCurses
Summary: A NSFW accompaniment to my Vanpora ficlet collection.CH1 - Dead Sexy (Erikar, zombiestuck AU)





	Vanporas After Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erikar where they're both zombies, but the kind that takes a while to turn you into a mindless brain eater. In the meantime, they've decided to make the most of being the only two sentient corpses for miles.

Zombie apocalypse movies are never exactly the ideal setting for romance. Not your kind of romance, anyway, the kind where your boyfriend gives you a bouquet of dead posies and hugs you even though you’re mid way through skinning the hare that he shot. Oh, and the kind where you’re both already dead, there’s that too. Usually, it’s the survivors that get all the limelight; pairing up to save the future of mankind, or being forced together in some ridiculously unbelievable way where they don’t want to get torn apart by the undead without one last fit of passion.

Passion is one thing your boyfriend is good at, though. He sticks to the trope of inappropriate times for kisses like there are hidden cameras somewhere. One time, he almost dip kissed you into a bear trap after you’d been chased into an old survivor’s camp. You mean, it probably wouldn’t have killed you, but if there’s one thing you want to keep in this train wreck of an existence, it’s your brain.

But he doesn’t always skip the romantic build up. Sometimes, he lays out a dinner with candles and whatever red flowers he could find, and tells you to wear something without holes in it. He’ll smile and compliment you and hold your hand, and then when you’ve melted into a puddle quicker than the cheap candles, he’ll kiss you sweetly and whisper pretty things in your ear as he holds you like he never wants to let go.

Usually it stops there; you either fall asleep in his arms on the couch, or one of you has the common sense to suggest that you actually get up and go to bed. You prefer to sleep in the bedroom, honestly. It’s where most of the guns are. But the couch isn’t the only place you’ve used as a makeshift bed; when you first acquired your current living arrangement, it was the bath tub, with a bundle of sheets and blankets so the two of you could hide, if you needed.

Then there’s the floor, obviously. You’re not experiencing a real apocalypse unless you’ve spent a night curled up on some nasty ass wooden floor, or at least that’s what Eridan says. But you digress. As you were saying, usually he sweet talks you into a giddy mess and you kiss him silly with the taste of whatever sugary treat he managed to find for dessert.

But sometimes, you get each other a little too worked up, and it isn’t simply a matter of just snuggling and perhaps forgetting where you’re supposed to sleep. Sometimes, his gentle pecks along your neck turn into nips that leave dark bruises in the shape of his mouth, and your hums of pleasure become stifled moans as he slips a hand down the front of your jeans.

You rock your hips in time with the movement of his fingers, grinding back against the bulge you can feel under your ass. Eridan gasps in your ear and you shudder, turning your head to kiss at his jaw. He nuzzles your hair and rubs a little faster until your back arches, a pitiful whine escaping as your heart gives a rough thump against your chest.

Then he laughs and you’re about to kick him in the shin, when he mutters, “You’re so gorgeous like this, Kar,” with that low, sultry voice of his and instead you grind down harder in his lap.

Another gasp is dragged out of him, his free hand grabbing at your inner thigh. But when he catches his breath enough to speak, he’s almost laughing again.

“I guess,” he says, pausing to mouth at your ear. “You could say that you’re,  _ dead sexy _ .”

It takes a moment to sink in, the fact that he just made a fucking joke in the middle of getting you off. Then it does and you wish your thighs were strong enough to crush his fingers.

“Y-you did  _ not _ , just make, a pun,” you pant, twisting to look him in the eyes as much as possible without stopping his access to your front.

He ignores the glare cast his way and kisses your neck, “I mean it.” You can tell he’s smiling as he sucks another hickey into your skin. “You’re the fuckin’ hottest corpse I ever met.”

Then he chuckles some more, as if he didn’t mean to make that one a joke, and if his stifled laughter wasn’t so Goddamn sexy like this then he would have a broken nose by now.

You scoff with as much indignation as you can muster with your boyfriend’s hand down your pants. “Shut up, asshole.” It’s only a half-assed order, and you still growl it in the way you know Eridan likes.

You don’t mean it, you never would. The shutting up part you’re referring to, here - Eridan indeed can be a royal asshole. But his voice is silk over wave-battered rocks; flowing into your ears smooth as a stream, until he pulls back that gentlemanly cover and has you at his mercy like the tides, all whispered praise and dirty compliments.

You’ll never admit it to anyone else, but you love it when he talks to you like that. The jokes… You can put up with them, you guess. Especially when he apologises by way of moving his free hand from your thigh to tangle in your hair.

When he gives a little tug, your thighs clench at a sudden jolt through your stomach. Eridan’s other hand slows down, but after you encourage him with a moan he picks up the pace as his own legs tense under you.

Somehow you manage to find an angle that lets you kiss him properly, using his shoulders as leverage to twist your back. You’re pretty certain that zombies get the opposite of rigor mortise at first; Eridan says he’s always been bendy as fuck, but some of the positions you’ve found yourself in have been completely uncharted territory - and not just because you died a virgin.

Remembering the night you swiped your v-card just sends more hot sparks down to meet Eridan’s fingers. You squirm in his lap, both of you breaking for air.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” you manage to tell him. Then you shift over to straddle one of his legs, replacing the space your ass left with your palm when he whines. “Want me to um…?”

Eridan nods and you somehow undo both button and zip with one hand. There’s a slick, wet patch on his pants – like yours are faring any fucking better at this point – and then it’s on your skin as you wrap your fingers around his dick.

“ _ Kar _ -” Eridan cuts himself off with a moan, getting louder when you swipe a thumb through the bead of precum at the head, taking it all the way down to the base and back up again. “Oh  _ God _ ,” he muffles another noise against your neck.

You love how he falls apart from just a few touches like this. Speaking of touch, fuck you’re so close, you can barely feel anything anymore except just heat and fuzz and yes, yes,  _ yes _ -

The arm sinking into couch cushions barely keeps you up as your thighs tense again, hips bucking up into Eridan’s hand. Shit- how does he keep any semblance of a rhythm? You can only just tell if you’re still holding his cock or not. You don’t even think you’re moving your hand anymore, you’re probably just squeezing or something.

Then you hit the edge and throw your head back against Eridan’s shoulder with the  _ most pathetic _ little  _ hhhhh _ noise that you try to hate but damn, you just can’t because Eridan always makes you come so hard that you can’t hate anything when your body is full of fireworks, shooting out of your stomach and everywhere below it.

It feels like forever but also not long enough, and it’s a disappointment when you grab Eridan’s wrist because you’re oversensitive. Apparently, you were doing a good job of jerking him off though – or maybe he just found getting _ you _ off really hot – because when you stop being a bundle of raw nerves set on fire, you have a handful of cum and a very happy boyfriend taking deep, warm breaths into your hair.

“Fuck me,” he mumbles, subtly wiping his hand on your jeans – you’ll get him back for that later – and then wrapping both arms around your waist.

In fact, you decide that revenge is not best served cold, and give his own pants a nice helping of jizz before you turn to hug him back. “Can’t a guy get a break first?”

He huffs and you can feel him wrinkle his nose, “Gross, Kar–” you’re not ashamed to say you chuckle. “But, are you bein’ serious?” He cocks an eyebrow.

You lean in close, letting your lips touch as you use the most sultry tone in your arsenal. “Dead fucking serious.”

You manage to keep a straight face for all of two seconds before the silent giggling sets in, then Eridan’s chucking too and all hope is lost. Except not really, because you’ve just forgiven Eridan for his terrible pun by making one of your own, made both of you laugh, _ and _ promised him sex in only three words, which as far as you’re concerned is a fucking triumph, especially for someone who should be six feet under.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed and if so, a comment and/or Kudos would be really appreciated.


End file.
